Wapun Meadow i wish to remain nameless

bearclaw valley's rounded shoulders lurked in the distance, a shawl of pale grey mist prowling their borders.

and here the two strangers stood, where the mouth of the bear spilled out --

neither seemed pleased by her presence. and who could blame them? she was a wretched thing to behold - dark, wicked -- cold amethyst vixen eyes.

are these your hunting grounds? astara's broad skull lifted, eyes attentive to the dove who spoke first. she blinked twice -- seemingly softly -- for the bears often ranged these meadows, and their scent was braided neatly into every fern and fen like water chugging over a river's throat.

the male with unsettling eyes was given a second glance over. astara had seen very few wolves of his kind before, and it was the peculiarity of his expression that enthralled her the most. unfortunately he would find little in the way of verbal answer, but astara did lumber forward carelessly over the discarded throat, nose glistening as she haled in him and took in his scent, in the fashion of their ancestors.